Things I got to hear today

"Mama! What if someone destroys the whole world? What will happen to us? We will all DIE!"

"Mama! What if I have an enemy? And then that enemy comes to my MARRIAGE and kills my HUSBAND? What will I do then?"

"Mama, mujhe plane mein jaana hai. Main kabhi bhi nahin Gaya plane mein. Mein Sikanderpur (he meant Singapore) jaunga plane mein."

"Mama, mujhe Hubba-bubba chahiye. Ek, do, paanch, eight, nine, SEVENTEEN!!" (Holding out ten grubby fingers)

"And mama, you know, in my secret seven book there is a famous five! Mumble mumble ( incoherent with excitement) and even Timmy the dog, woof woof!!"

"You bought only TWO chocolate eclairs? Can I have a whole chocolate eclair, Please? Okay fine, we will ALL share. Half-half for me, half-half for you?"

"And now DADDY is here to tell you all a story. Today we will hear the story of Superman and Doodhwala..."

Yes, there's never a dull moment around here. Ranges from the morbid to the cute to various other things. But dull? Nah. 

Conversation with Peanut

Y: How was school today, Peanut?

P: Fine.

Y: What did you learn today?

P: Nothing.

Y: Nothing?

P: I mean, I learnt something but I forgot.

Y: Oh okay.

(Philosophical silence while she munches her lunch)

Y: (Restless) Peanut, what do you think is the purpose of life?

P: What, Mama?

Y: Why are we on this planet?

P: (Thinks for a second) Because there is water here.

Y: (Stunned, and then recovers) Yes, but why were we born?

P: Corn, Mama?

Y: BORN.

P: Lorn?

Y: (Catching on) Very funny. You can hear me just fine. I asked, why were we born?

P: (Sagely) I know Daddy was born first.

Y: Yes, but WHY?

P: (Getting irritated now) Because it was his birthday.

Y: (Also getting irritated) You are not providing me with the answers to life. What is LIFE?

P: (At the end of her tether) Life is LOVE, okay?

We both stare at each other for a moment and then she starts laughing. I join her and we are both happy.

Right, she is, every single time. 

My Family Says Strange Things

After the 'Preponderance' incident, my children demonstrate they take after their father.

Peanut (in a mocking tone to me, peeping out of the tenthouse I have foolishly purchased for my children) - Hanna Ka Montana!
Me (shocked at the tone as well as the realization that she's heard about Hannah Montana from somewhere) - Do you even know that that means?
Peanut (in an even more derisive tone than before): It's a Human Being.

And then, when we have a visitor - a conservative family member from Vijay's side, who has come to visit my Father-in-law at home. I am sitting in uncomfortable silence sipping tea, trying to find something to say to this gentleman who is from another world, and has dropped by unannounced. I catch sight of the twins peeping out cautiously at the stranger.
The stranger is as relieved as I am that we no longer have to rack our brains on what to say to each other. He invites them 'Idhar aao, Idhar Aao'.
My relief changes to horror as I hear my twins whispering to each other in their baby babble and then arriving at the consensus 'E Motu Uncle Hai.'
Cursing my husband for teaching them the phrase Motu Uncle, I abandon my cup of tea and hurriedly run into the babies room to lock them in for the rest of the visit. 

Sabbatical Round Up

I'm now well into two months on the sabbatical, and quickly losing track! But the last month has been busy, with quite a few firsts:

* The book launch of my first book :-) - it was a really fun event, more than anything else. I'll always remember it. I better, given that we forgot the videographer. My husband's iPhone to the rescue again.

* The first big birthday bash that I've ever thrown for my three kids - that deserves another post altogether. It was close on the heels of the book launch and since I'd never done anything like this before, it gave me more tension than the launch did. But it turned out great, great fun and the kids had a great time, especially Peanut. She is now five and the twins are two. Sigh.

* More time spent with my grandmother, which is always nice. Her spirits are up, despite the cancer and the ninety years. Could learn a helluva lot about the right attitude from this wonderful lady.

* A very, very nice Rakhi indeed - with both of my siblings in town, for a change! It just so happened that my brother was in town for that week, and we had a very nice time together - the importance of the family is really being driven home to me now while I'm all older and wiser in my thirties.The highlight of the day was that Pickle and Papad were accosted by all their cousins who tried to tie rakhis on them, which they couldn't understand the purpose of and therefore staunchly resisted with all their might - and it was complete madness. My brother's daughter Nikki is  probably the cutest kid I've ever seen, and trust me, this is a lot coming from a mother with three of her own. I wish she didn't live in England. It's hard not being able to watch her grown up. Oh well. My kids are almost as cute and there are rather a lot of them, so it makes up for it.

* Accomplishing of weight loss goals ha ha ha:  I finally weighed myself, and it's ...ta da...fifty six kilos! Yayyyy! This is a loss of about six kgs in the last two months. The Zumba goes strong, although classes have not been as regular as I'd like them to be of late. The dieting is pretty much off. There's only so much of the GM wonder soup that you can take for a lifetime. In Zumba class, my teacher remarked how he was once 78 kgs and is now 68 kgs thanks to the regular exercise. He looked around the room, saying 'We all know how difficult it is, right?' and then his gaze rested on me and he said 'Except for those of us who'll never know what it's like to have a weight problem.' I took great pleasure in telling him I was 84 kgs when nearing full term with the twins. You don't care about this, do you? Double -Sigh.

* I'm almost done with the first draft of my second book :) . This may sound like a superhuman feat, but most of it was written last year and I'm just recrafting it. About four more chapters to go and then I start the second draft to get it into a shape where I'm not ashamed to send it to someone to read. My wonderful sister has been instrumental in shaping this book, being the only soul alive I trusted enough to send the raw material to.

* Things picking up pretty nicely with Just Married, Please Excuse in the meantime. I'm hoping that a bunch of you read and review it on your blogs and on Flipkart. Go on, every little bit helps.

* I'm enjoying the extra time with the kids, although as you may have guessed, with everything else that's going on, it's not really all that much extra time. However, I've been dropping the twins to playschool every day for the last month and they're finally settling in now, so fingers crossed. My children are all now school-going. Excuse me while I sigh for the last time in this post.

So that's about it, or at least all that I can remember. Some exciting activities coming up next week. Will keep you guys posted. In the meantime, don't forget about participating in this giveaway - two winners already going to receive their copies of the book, there's still a chance for you to win! 

On a Happier Note

Peanut, Papad and Pickle at the Mall. Taken there by my lovely little sister.

Right, so maybe not.

The last two days have had:

* Meeting with people at HarperCollins - Editors, Art Director, Marketing - truly a nice bunch. And there's still SO much to be done on the book.
* PTA meeting with Peanut's teachers -she has graduated from Nursery. Holy Crap-ioli. I mean, Wow. Already in the big school for a year.
* Work, Work, Work - Appraisals, Annual Plans, and lots of other things.
* Kids, Kids, Kids - There are so many of them!
* A nice impromptu rooftop party at a work-friend's- with the most amazing kababs (even though they were veg), and guitar-ing and singing.
* And today, some more health issues arise at home. So we hope for the best and get into treatment mode.

I feel tired. Goodnight.

Just Another Day

6.30 a.m. - wake up with little Papad, who's all excited about seeing the 'baardies' he can hear chirping outside our window.
8 a.m.- rush like madwoman with laughing Peanut to bus-stop. Curse Vijay privately for travelling so much these days.
9 a.m. - set out for work. Have conversation with seasoned author friend who's kind enough to share tips about what I should be doing in next few months. Cower in fear at thought of book launches.
10 a.m. - start off work-day with a bang, all pissed off about the pace at which things are going.
12 p.m. - Cancel meeting and rush to Peanut's school because they are saying she has been complaining of stomach ache and throwing up.
12.30 p.m. - Arrive at her school's medical room and find her smiling beatifically at me and saying 'I knew you'd come, Mama'.
1 p.m. - deposit her at home after fixing up doc appointment for later in the afternoon, and rush back to work
3.20 p.m. - finish whatever I can at work and rush off again, pick up Peanut from home, hiding from poor little Pickle and Papad and take her to doctor for appointment
4.30 p.m. - deposit sleeping child at home with instructions about what to give her, and head out again to buy children some soft toys to keep them from banging on the floor and driving lady downstairs crazy- fodder for another post. End up almost purchasing a slide which I plan to put in the kid's bedroom. Sense prevails at nth hour and I head back with some foam puzzles instead.
5 p.m. - on the way, decide to buy large flower pots since the twins have been trying to climb up the railings on the balcony. No interest in horticulture whatsoever so stop at first nursery on the way and ask for the heaviest pots they have. Settle for rectangular, huge-ass pots and select some random cactii after explaining to man that I will forget to water them on most days.
5.15 p.m. - come home and decide that flowerpot is good idea but I actually need two of them. Send off Peanut and Pickle to the park and take Papad with me back to Nursery man.
5.30 p.m. - Buy another couple of random plants for another huge-ass pot and lug them back home. Settle them on balcony and feel extremely satisfied for having protected my children.
5.32 p.m. - Terrible panic sets in as I realize that they may not be able to jump off balcony easily but may in a state of resentment use their combined strength to push flowerpot off balcony and kill innocent passersby. Brood on the issue terribly. Kamal, my driver, who has been helping deposit flowerpots on balcony remarks 'Sirf agar bhookump aa gaye ga...' brightens up and adds 'Jaise kal aaya tha na? Phir to gaye kaam se!'
6 p.m. - Peanut and Pickle return from park and there is screaming, joyful and tearful reunion as they realize Mama is home. Much chaos for next few hours.
7 p.m. - Peanut has a relapse and vomits all over the place. Several times. Next few hours spent in tending to her ineptly until she finally collapses from sheer exhaustion.
10.38 p.m. - Collapse from sheer exhaustion after writing blog post.

Ek Good News, Ekk Bad News...

First, the Good news:

Pickle yesterday said his first FOUR-SYLLABLE WORD!!

(Yayyyy! Taaaliyaaan! Mera Laadla...Boy Genius...Child Prodigy....)

Now, the Bad News:

The word was.... Kolaveri

(Sniff....Sob...Boo-hoo....Whimper....)

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.

So I finally read the very famous Battle Hymn... by Amy Chua - probably a year or two after everyone else, right? Never mind. Better late than never.

I found the book eminently enjoyable. It was kind of strange because I alternated between thinking 'What, is this woman crazy?' to 'Wow, she's brave to be putting herself out there with all these radical sounding parenting confessions' to 'Uh-oh - why is some of this sounding a little too familiar'?

I am not sure why I was also a little disturbed by the book. Perhaps because I think I'm still personally figuring out my own parenting style - I have three small kids - and I'm just in my early thirties. While that's not exactly young, I know people my age and older who are still single or just married, with no kids on the horizon anywhere for the next couple of years at least. At twenty seven, I was one of the youngest mothers in my own rather limited social circle of friends and cousins. So the fact is that there hasn't really been someone to look up to with regard to what good parenting really means. Well, except my own mother - who is a wonderful lady, but look how confused her progeny turned out, right?

So anyway, I think overall Madame Chua is more than slightly nuts-oid and paranoid and all-around overdoing it as a parent in her very honest, funny, lovely book. And at the same time, she sounds not just so very human, but also so very normal. Despite her deliberately annoying sweeping generalizations, and all those statements and observations about 'Western parents' that are provocative yet probably true.

The only statement that really bothered me in the book, was the line ''Every day you don't practise, is a day you're getting worse''. This referred to the piano or the violin, but it hit me at two levels:

* My own playing of the guitar stagnated precisely because of the fact that I stopped playing regularly, stopped challenging myself.
* I recently enrolled Peanut in piano classes and it was a total eyewash because of the fact that I couldn't keep up with her lessons and get her to practise myself.

I also totally subscribe to the author's idea that the most rewarding things in life are usually incredibly frustrating at the beginning. I faced that with the guitaring. With the writing. Early failures everywhere, and then finding some sort of beautiful rhythm that makes sure that some things just work.

And that's certainly one area I plan to push the kids as soon as I get my parenting act together - encouraging them past the early failures ( oh all right, maybe threatening, cajoling, bribing, too - whatever it takes!). So that they have a fighting chance at becoming excellent. The potential always exists, right?

And in any case, I take some comfort in the whole 'most rewarding things in life being frustrating at first' thing.

Because if that's true, parenting is all set to be the most rewarding thing in my life sometime in the distant future.

Have you read the book? What did you think?

The Balancing Act

So I continue to hear things like - '' I really don't know how you're doing it? Managing a job, three children and you've written a book? Wow!''

Now, here's the thing. Neither do I. Know how I'm doing it, that is. Which is actually not all that important.

The bit of a bummer is that I suspect I've not actually being doing it all very well.

For what was the longest time - almost all of 2011 - I continued to plod on though, giving my best to what actually comes most naturally to me - my job. And feeling like I wasn't really sure what was going on with my kids, getting behind on Peanut's homework, rarely getting to bathe Pickle and Papad myself, and hardly ever taking them to the park. As for writing, after January 1, I thought I'd give myself a little breather, and the next thing I know, it's over a month later and I haven't written a word. In short, it was all going slightly awry, but I felt too tired and clueless about effecting any real change in life.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, my favorite and only remaining grandmother - Didu - was diagnosed with Cancer. At the age of 90.

Shocking and ridiculously unfair turn of events as this has been, my determination has been to try and spend as much time with her as possible. Given that she lives an hour away with my mother, I had no choice but to cut back on my work committments and for the time being at least, have started to work on a half-day arrangement.

You'd think that would work better, but given that there has been an imminent house shift and set up, and illness - with first Anouk getting a stomach upset last week and then both me and Papad getting viral illness and eye infections - it's not been any better, really. The worst part about my falling ill is that I can't go and visit Didu, for fear of infecting her, which would be a disaster given her precarious condition.

Didu has had her first round of Chemotherapy and thankfully seems to have not suffered the side effects too badly. Except that she's really very weak and sometimes in a lot of pain. It's amazing that she keeps her spirits up and is cheerful in general, expressing more concern for the so called trouble and worry she is causing the family, than any major fear or concern for her own self. Typical.

So net-net, I'm going to have to reorient myself a little. Okay, a lot.

24 hours in the day. So many things to do. So much ambition. So little sleep, which actually proves to be terribly counter-productive overall and leads to illnesses, and other stuff.

Step one, therefore - get more sleep. By stopping the breastfeeding of the twins through the night. And that of course, will be another adventure by itself.

In the meantime, as always - life goes on.

Home Shifting

We have finally moved out of our old flat - which was a tiny two bedroom apartment - into a new flat - far, far more spacious.

Will post later about the actual housemoving process which was a lot of fun. But I am just so RELIEVED as of now with the new place.

Basically, we were a small family when we moved into our older flat 4 years ago - two of us working parents and one kid and a maid. Then the twins came along, Vijay's parents moved in, and net-net - suddenly there were EIGHT of us!

I once saw a sign on the door to the office of a famous psychiatrist ( I was interviewing her, NOT getting treatment, in case you're wondering - although there's no shame in therapy, ha ha) - which said ''Dr Anjali's Own Sacred Space''

I feel something similar about my own large room ( oh, there's a husband sharing it but that's a minor detail) - am thinking of putting up a sign that says

''Finally, Space for Mah Own Crap''.

Not the same, but similar.

*Breathes sigh of relief*

Bharatpur Day 2

I can't believe I haven't found time to complete the Bharatpur story. Therefore, quick attempt. This will be, unlike the previous post, just notes on the highlights.

Highlights, therefore:

1. We went cycling the next day in the Keola dev national park and my bottom hurt for a week or so after that. The landmark here is that this is the first post that mentions my bottom. It's a strange feeling. Moving along, quickly, the cycling was the BEST fun. This was in spite of the fact that there were no ladies cycles available and I had to ride a man's cycle which was too big for me and was in serious danger of hurting me and ensuring that I would not be able to bear a fourth child .... Hey...first post that mentions my...never mind. Vijay taught me how to ride properly, dismount (without hurting myself) and to pedal with maximum output and least effort. Useful two hours. And we saw some birds too.

2. Vijay was insistent that the rickshaw driver I had given a big tip to the day before would be lying somewhere drunk in a ditch - my heart leapt for joy when we spotted him at the end of our cycling trip - he had been anxiously looking out for us 'Un log ko aaj kaun andar le gaye'? He was mollified to note that we had taken ourselves in on bicycles; and I haughtily told Vijay he must have more faith in people since the man was talking to us and clearly NOT lying drunk in a ditch somewhere.

3. Vijay converted himself from a scoffer-of-my-mother's-many-cameras into a Canon-toting-shutterbug, who developed a fascination for photography and took some really lovely shots of some birds including me...i mean, and also me... which I have put up on Facebook in case any of you are interested.

4. I got to pat a stray black puppy and try out my newly cultivated American accent, just for a lark. Both activities drove Vijay crazy, as a dog-hater as well as a 'angrez-log' hater. Well, he doesn't hate either, he just doesn't like them much. I later subjected him to my American accent while we were driving back to Delhi and to his credit, he did not actually carry out his threat of throwing me out of the car.

5. We ate too much in the Bagh's wonderful restaurant and basked in the sun after every meal. The Moong-dal-ka-halwa was to die for. I died for it. And became a little fatter, I'm sure. Heavenly, heavenly meals. I told myself that the cycling had ensured that I could take the extra calories. It's okay to lie to yourself while on Holiday. In fact, it is a pre-requisite to enjoyment.

6. Vijay continued to fluster and annoy people, even the lovely staff at the restaurant - the nice waiter said 'how many cubes sugar, sir', only to be spontaneously told 'Mujhe to der cube ( or however you write the hindi word for one-and-a-half) chahiye'. The man hovered uncertainly until Vijay assured him that just one cube would do.

We had to rush back one day earlier because the kids were apparently inconsolable without me at night - and in short, ended up only staying for two days instead of three. We managed to squeeze in a place called Deeg, which was nice but not faaantastic, you know what I mean? Will try and write a bit more about that later. Dammit, it's been so long that I've lost my notes on the trip. Must not let so much time pass before posting again.

But overall- it was the best, best trip possible and our annual holiday was an unqualified success, even though it was very short.

Highly recommended, Bharatpur.

The Physicality Of It All

...days like these when I am just so tired, I'm not really thinking, but just registering the physicality of it all.
The pushing myself up eleven flights of stairs out of sheer habit and the knowledge it's the only exercise I'll get today.
The hot coffee that practically burns my tongue but props me up for the first few hours of the day. The aching muscles in my neck and shoulders, and the exhaustion that creeps in after lunch hour, reminding me again of the fact that I'm sleeping far less than I should be.
And then the dizzy spell that hits me as I'm climbing up the steps to my home towards my kids.
The way that the kids crowd around my legs - the twins insisting upon being carried, an impossible task beyond a few seconds.
I feed them one by one - Pickle bites me viciously and I cry out in pain. He thinks it's funny and breaks into impossibly cute peals of laughter. He bites me again.
And eventually I give up and lie down on the floor in surrender. Peanut takes the opportunity to come and lie down next to me, and starts imitating the twins. Blowing raspberries on my tummy. She thinks it's funny. After about the twentieth time, I'm not laughing, but she doesn't stop. She pokes my belly-button and tells me that I'm 'the best'.
Pickle and Papad take the opportunity to fall on top of me repeatedly, almost banging their heads against each other every few minutes. Despite how tired I am, I try to energize myself with a few floor exercises - leg lifts and some Yoga. The leg lifts, they do not appreciate, and push my legs down whenever I lift them. I turn around to lie flat on my tummy and try the Bhujangasana, but Papad takes great offense to this pose, and starts to pull my hair. He does it so hard that tears come into my eyes, but I'm too tired to actually get up. I try in vain to do a few more exercises, but none of it works.
As they fall on me, twisting their limbs uncaringly, trusting that I will somehow catch them in the nick of time and save them from hitting their heads on the floor -which somehow, with some motherly instinct, I do each time - I can feel their smooth cheeks, their soft hair, and smell their sweet baby breaths.
I watch as they momentarily lose interest in me and climb the sofas, climb the chairs, climb the railings, attempt to electrocute themselves by sticking their fingers into sockets, open cupboards to take out and eat CDs, throw their toys on the floor, fight over balls and bottles, hit each other with their plastic bats, pull each others' hair - while Peanut perches on the dining table like a little Princess and does her drawings. I am still exhausted, lying prone on the floor, and my two maids leap into action, saving the twins from each other and themselves. I thank my lucky stars again that I have such help, but feel really sorry because I realise how tired they must be after a full day of this, and I feel bad that I'm so tired myself that I'm really unable to help out just now. I feel so sick and I wish Vijay wasn't so late coming home today. Two hours have already passed by now, and it's been a crazy, impossible, fun and exhausting two hours with three children.

I wonder how long I'm going to be able to keep this up. Perhaps it's the fact that I am no longer as young as I used to be - after all, I'm in my thirties now. But between work, the children, and lack of sleep, it all feels like it's a little too much and I am very very grateful for the fact that there is a two day weekend coming up. Heavenly. My entire body already aches for the extra sleep that the Saturday and Sunday will bring.

And then the bell rings, interrupting my contemplative reverie. All three children promptly run towards the door and in walks my six feet two Vijay. It is eight p.m. and the two of us stare at each other - he grins at me but I am not amused by his lateness and have no sympathy for his extended meeting. The twins are now crowded around his long legs and he picks up Papad. Pickle does not like this and makes his protests heard until my maid picks him and places him on Vijay's other arm. He stands there like that with his two sons, grinning in pure delight - all three of them have identical smiles on their faces and the sight of my many, many men makes my heart lurch a bit.

And then, Papad gives him a resounding slap on the face, stunning him. Pickle follows suit and Vijay is shouting, and trying to get the two of them to stop, but their new game is amusing them immensely and they repeatedly slap him. Peanut is trying to show him her drawing, unmindful of the fact that he is getting assaulted, and when he is unable to respond to her, she loses her temper herself and starts to pummel at him - unfortunately for him, her height and skinny long arms are positioned for most of these blows to land upon his crotch and he dances around like a giraffe under attack, shouting 'Help, help' as all three children do their best to smack him silly.

I hear a loud, throaty laugh pealing through the room and it takes me a moment to realize that it's me, giggling uncontrollably through all the exhaustion and dizziness at the sight of my husband and children like this. I laugh long and hard for the next few minutes, feeling better and more energized than I have the whole day.

Yes, it's kind of funny when you're not the one being mauled.

Welcome Home, Honey.

Two become One!

...that is to say, some people's twin sons have turned a year old!

And the blog has not been updated with that momentous happening for a whole week. Sacrilege! Oh well, I'll get over it somehow.

Pickle and Papad, the most amazing little men in my life turned a year old last weekend. As is the firm belief that Vijay and I hold, one-year-old's birthday bashes do not make any sense whatsoever since the babies themselves don't know what the heck is happening, and so we said we would do something small, just for the family.

Of course, considering that the family consists of:

*my mother
*Vijay's father
* My sister
* Vijay's two sisters
* The two sister's two husbands
* One of Vijay's nephews in Delhi
* One of my cousins and her husband and two kids
* My Bua and Phoophaji
* Vani, who is honorary family member and her son who by extension is my nephew

...plus the 5 of us and the several maids that keep floating about, it was a full house ( it's twenty three people, in case you're wondering about the grand total) . To say the least.

It was the warmest, brightest, nicest little Birthday party for the two little boys wearing new clothes and looking all grown up. Babies turning Toddlers. The previous day, I had gone shopping. I hadn't been in a nice mood when I went into the store, with lots of stuff going on, and with shopping not being my most favorite activity, but when I got into the swing of it, I enjoyed myself like crazy. I bought three sets of toys for them, skates and a board game and an umbrella for Peanut, little return gifts for the few little kids who were attending, and party paraphernalia like balloons, streamers, party hats, paper plates and Dora glasses for my little girl, who ended up enjoying the party most.

My sister did the honors with the cake - or rather, two cakes from Maxims - lovely chocolate stuff, and Pickle and Papad stood at the ready with little plastic knifes, each wearing identical T-shirts that said 'Mummy's little Man' and gazing with curious fascination at the colorful candle that proclaimed them One Years Old, with various little sisters and a highly pleased Mama to help them cut their cakes simultaneously. I can't imagine a more perfect birthday. Where are the pics, people? I didn't take any, but there were various flashes of light.

Vijay's sisters did a little Pooja for them, and S Didi had even got tiny garlands made up of roses for them, and my little babies looked so incredibly adorable wearing them. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm gushing, but what the heck.

All day, memories of that fateful Saturday exactly one year ago kept floating into my head. 8.30 in the morning, staring at the blood in the bathroom. Rushing to the hospital. Emergency C-section. And all the other stuff that followed. And now, the most important thing was that the two little men are fine, strapping young toddlers already.

Pickle and Papad are the most amazing phenomenon for me. I may have loosely mentioned that I had a little obsession with the concept of twins. Is this common? I loved the Twins at St. Clare's series, and the Sweet Valley Twins series. I once ended up reading a highly inappropriate and somewhat disturbing novel called Twins at too early an age ( do not read it, please). I remember arbitly doing research on it years ago, and have been particularly interested in the connection that twins have with each other, the differences between identical and fraternal twins, and so on and so forth. I always secretly wanted a twin myself, but never ever thought I would be lucky enough to conceive, carry, deliver and raise beautiful twin sons myself.

At work, I joked the other day that I love A/B testing so much that I had twins just to carry out A/B testing with them throughout my life. But it's true. When you have identical twin sons, it's easy to figure out certain things. Such as, when parents say they love their kids equally, it isn't really true. There's a bit of a bias always. Mine is for one of the twins, and I will not disclose it for fear that the other one will one day read this and make my life hell. Hint, though - his name begins with P.

But in short, we have successfully crossed yet another important milestone. Here's to many more Happy Birthdays to the glorious phenomena that we so inanely refer to as

... Mister Pickle and Mister Papad.

Photographs by Marta

Just a few sample pictures that my Spanish neighbour, Marta did up for me. She's created an absolutely gorgeous album, with high quality pictures on some special high quality paper.

She's starting out her career in India as a professional photographer, and the lady has some style. So if you're interested in getting some family pics and you happen to live in Gurgaon/Delhi, go ahead and email her at apna.moments@gmail.com.

Just another Tuesday

Drove myself to work at 8.30 a.m.

Nearly had accident right after telling husband trembling in passenger seat not to worry.

Worked.

Took Meru cab at 5.15 p.m and now it was my turn to tremble as the Gunda-looking driver spoke on phone to his wife demanding to know whose voice it was in the background .

Reached home safe and went for a swim with Peanut.

Came back and had Papad and Pickle crawling all over me.

Had dinner with husband and a full 5 minute conversation after the kids fell asleep.

Wrote for half hour.

Could life possibly get any better?

Maybe if everything wasn't hurting so much.

But then, let us not be greedy.

A typical day

Morning 6.45 a.m.

Have been awaken by Pickle and am in an unusually good mood in the middle of a three day weekend. So am singing a GNR song that was my favorite years ago.

Belting out 'I used to love her...but I had to kill her...I knew I'd miss her...so I had to keep her...she's buried right in my backyaaaaard'.

Vijay opens one eye and says 'Hai raam - kya ga rahe ho, subah subah...kuchh bhajan-wajan nahi hai kya?'

I sing louder 'I used to love her...but I had to kill her...she bitched so MUCH...she drove me NUTS...and I can still hear her complaaaaiiin'.

Vijay shuts his eye and starts fervently and piously singing to try and drown me out 'Om Jai Jagdish Hare...'


Afternoon 2 p.m.

Me despairing about the clutter in the house after spending the morning trying to clean up in vain. Vijay not listening to me but working on his computer. Peanut coloring nearby.

Me: It's an impossible task to clean this house! But I have an idea. I will throw away 5 things each day.
Vijay: (Gives me the Thumbs up sign)
Me: That way, in a week I'll have thrown away 28 things!
Vijay: (Repeats Thumbs up sign)
Me (After some thought) Wait a minute. In a week, I'll have thrown away 35 things, not 28.
Vijay: (Two Thumbs Up sign)
Me: YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME!
Peanut, looking up from her coloring: MAMA! LET HE WORK!

Fine, fine. I know when I'm outnumbered.

Evening 6 p.m.

I make a dismal pronouncement on the onset of menstruation. The one major benefit of pregnancy (apart from the children of course) has always been the lack of monthly cycles. But no more, I tell my husband.

'Oh good' he responds chirpily 'Now we can have more babies!'

Just So Much Going ON!

So Peanut is starting school tomorrow. Fingers crossed and all that. Have to drop her to the school, and praying that she settles in nicely.

A week or so back, we went for her 'graduation' ceremony. The playschool had put up a really nice show, with dancing, singing, a play - the works. The kids did a commendable job and it was really quite amazing for me to see Peanut dancing demurely to Swagatam, she and her little partner flawlessly performing the steps.

However, she looked a little bit lost while dancing although I was totally entranced. Vijay said 'She's looking for us...'. It was difficult for her to see us because we were sitting right in the back - Vijay, me, my mother and Vijay's dad. The teachers had announced specifically before the show started that we were not to wave out to and distract our children while they were performing.

Being one who tries to follow official instructions to the absolute T, I told Vijay that we should not wave to our daughter, it would perhaps throw her off and that we should listen to the authorities.

Peanut went off stage, still looking a little lost. She hadn't spotted us. I felt a little bad but figured maybe she would perk up in the next performance. This was a play in which she was acting as 'Sita', the friend of Mowgli, in the Hansel and Gretel play ( don't ask, okay?). Her line was 'Look Mowgli, we have company!' and she had practiced at home several times.

The play was on and Peanut came on stage, looking like a little doll in a blue lehenga. The time rolled around for her to say her line, and I waited with bated breath.

My daughter forgot her line.

The teacher narrating the story smoothly jumped in with her line, but I felt bad - not that she had missed her line, but how she might feel about it. I turned to talk to Vijay about it and did a double take when I noticed he was gone from the seat next to me.

I looked back at Peanut and noted a change in her demeanour. She had perked up and was doing a little wave to someone at the back of the audience. Sure enough, it was my tall, gangly husband - her tall, gangly Daddy - who was determined to have his way and make sure that she saw him. She was now smiling and he headed back to his seat and since she was watching him, she could now see the rest of us too. She was very happy, and it was time for the 'Chaddi pehen ke song' which Mowgli and his friends were to dance on, and boy, did Sita rock it on this number!

She swayed, jumped, wiggled her bum and did a wonderful job with more enthusiasm than I had ever seen at home. Vijay and I were clapping along, and she finally waltzed off the stage with full confidence.

I had to admit. The husband does a good job with his free-wheeling and instinctive parenting. Much better than the by-the-book approach sometimes that some people take a teeny-tiny bit too seriously at times.

That's why we make a great team.

P.S - I actually cried during the graduation. I couldn't believe she had grown up so much.
P.P.S - I asked at the office today how many people cried after India won the World cup. Four out of nine people put up their hands. Just out of curiosity ( am not a cricket fan at all) - did you?

'You had TWINS?'

I'll do another, longer post some other day about the various inappropriate comments that a mother of twins receives. Right now, I'm still in the process of collecting.

But yes, the reactions that really get my goat are the ones along the lines of 'Oh you've had twins? So...

'How do you manage?!'
' Three kids? Poor you!'
'Got more than you bargained for, eh?'
'There should be a law against twins the second time round!'
And my personal favorite...
'Best of luck!'

So the thing is - I guess it must be the near death experience or equivalent with the delivery last year, or maybe the scare during the pregnancy itself with the late discovery of twins halfway through, or the jaundice when they were born - but net-net, I'm actually extremely, extremely glad to be a mother of three. I especially love the fact that I'm a mom of twins, given that I've always had a fascination with twins ever since the O'Sullivan Twins and the Sweet Valley Twins that I read about as a little girl.

I have three babies, am managing a career and am working on a very important personal project at the moment. Life is full. Overfull at times, but there's never a dull moment. Day before yesterday, I pulled out my dusty old guitar and was singing to the twins and Peanut. Vijay came in and sat down and made the twins do a highly synchronized Gangsta type dance which had Peanut and me in peals of laughter, so much so that I could barely sing. I realized that I may never get up on stage again like I used to in college, but heck, I got my very own audience - in fact, my very own set of groupies, given how the kids clambered all over me later as I lay back on the bed, making me feel like a very willing Gulliver trapped in a highly blissful and endearing Lilliput.

So yes, Mister 'Best of Luck'...

I accept your wishes for whatever they are worth as I turn my attention back to my 'little' family.

After all, more luck is always welcome.

The Twins Who Pretend To Be Identical

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I've always been fascinated by the thought of twins. Well, I actually always wondered what it would be like to be have a twin. But being a mother of two beautiful twin boys is clearly the next best thing.
Funny thing about Pickle and Papad is that they're supposed to be identical but they really look quite different. They are 'genetically identical' - but they're definitely two separate individuals.
Pickle is the 'big bhaiiya' - he was born one minute before Papad but is definitely the gunda of the twosome. He sat up earlier, is already crawling and despite his rough start with the jaundice and all that - or perhaps because of it - he's the tougher one.
His cheeks are like two eminently bite-able apples. They are incredibly big, round, red and faintly chapped thanks to the Delhi winter. Quite adorable.
Papad is the sweetie - the youngest one, the baby of the family. He's got very shy smiles, and slightly sparse hair unlike Pickle's thick black crop. Papad is a very good little baby in general.
We took them for their development check up at 6 months a week or so ago -and the specialist made a comment on Papad making Pickle do all the hard work - he lay around peacefully watching Pickle grab at, bang on and otherwise experiment with all the new toys. The specialist said 'When they're older, he'll say you go ahead...book the movie ticket...talk to Mum about going...and buy a ticket for me too'.
Somehow the image of my not-so-identical identical twin sons at about the age of 15 talking to me about their plans to go for a movie hit me with a jolt. These little babies aren't just the teddy bears I think of them as sometimes...they're going to be two strapping males. Peanut's bodyguards.
Prospective suitors for my daughter are going to be chased off by others saying 'Whoa...watch out for that one...her twin brothers are toughies, they really look out for rher'.
Already she's so fond of them and vice versa - she makes them laugh all the time. I think they're going to have a really special relationship. And of course, there are times when she wants to act like the third twin. A couple of hours back, I decided to put clips in the twins' hair to make them look like cute little girls so of course Peanut had to get into the act as well. The three of them were a real sight to see.
Man, I've made some cute babies. Well done, Y's uterus.
Now where's that Kala Teeka again? It's one of those posts, isn't it? Well, I couldn't help it.
Three is a good number.